


A Mage's Pawn

by turquoise_moon



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Blossoming Romance, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Revenge/Betrayal, Secret Relationship, Separate Worlds/World Between Worlds, Slight Humor, Sorey and Mikleo are NOT Childhood Friends, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-10-25 18:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17730443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turquoise_moon/pseuds/turquoise_moon
Summary: Sorey Archer knew his first year in Ravencrowe Academy should be anything but unremarkable. After all, the legendary training ground admits no one but the most potentially strong and talented... But in the Nether Realms where the line between good and dark magic is more a matter of principle than technique, repressive taboos and bloody secrets abound. For the Imperial Re'mune and the rest of Glenwood, the Academy is but a mansion of monsters and misfits... a fitting prison for a breed of delinquents ready to sell their magic to the highest bidder.But with Camlann facing imminent defeat against the Empire, Sorey only wished he could finish his training soon enough so he could return to his family and homeland. He did not plan on being drawn deeper into the mysteries of the Academy, into someone like Mikleo Grailstorm... the one towering genius everyone aspires to beat, and the only hope or doom that may change the fates of all: the mages, the Empire, and all that is precious to Sorey.





	1. Bitter-Sweet Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Tales of Zestiria. All credit for the characters and the original story go to Bandai Namco and Ufotable, its writers and staff. This is just for fun. Hope you enjoy! ^_^

**o----------o)O(o----------o**

“Look Sorey, I know what’s on your mind.”

"Huh?"

Sorey watched Rose wolf down her third chocolate cupcake as he pushed another tray into the oven. Normally, the _Wizards' Own_ never lets its mage students dabble in anything that uses fire, one of which is cooking or baking. Fire is one of the more unpredictable elements, and also one of the most difficult to  _will_ into submission. That being so, a mage below level 3 might easily end up incinerating anything he touches with the slightest disturbance in his mental or emotional state.

Add to that the fact that most have barely made it beyond level 2, and it seems nothing more than elementary prudence to reconsider the domestic uses of any element to be a potential risk, if not a prelude to hypothetical disasters. 

Of course it would be an understatement to say that the mage quarters, unlike anything else in Ravencrowe Academy, remain to be the most heavily _shielded_ for the exact same reason. Then again, even with the safety barriers up to absorb fatal energy surges from magic users—something senior mages can manage quite easily—the risk is something still worth considering. After all, novice mages with severely unstable abilities can be _triggered_ even in their sleep. Given the _Symphonius_ incident of not more than six years ago, the Academy has learned to put harmless habits under suspicion. It would not wait for social condemnation to define behaviors as potential risks the same way people do in the mundane world of non-magic...

An outside world that exists in a separate field of time and space, behind a locked door with a missing key. Except that Sorey Archer has always been, in any world here or there, a rare exception.

That almost explains why he can bake treats in his own kitchen. Well... almost.

"Just making sure... are these cupcakes really magic-free? All these flavors are way too cool!"

"Cool? That one was barely out of the oven when you gobbled it up, Rose!"

"Oh, right, I should've said _hot_ , right? Hot, cool, whatever, don't they mean the same thing?" 

“Yeah, right. Before that you were saying something."

"Oh yeah, know what? You have one seductive magic right here with these cupcakes. You think the _Queen_ would fall for it?"

"Look, enough with the mind-reading tricks, Rose. And that’s your last cupcake, by the way. I’m saving the rest for Mikleo.”

“Right. The secret boyfriend must be happy to die in your sweet poison of love! But seriously, sometimes I just can’t stand the way you look at him. Like, you must be aching to be in his breeches for the longest time!”

“Really, for the love of Maotelus, Rose, just finish that cupcake and leave before I send you flying out of here.”

“Without a broom? Nah, you love me too much to have the heart to do that.”

“Look, Rose Sparrowfeathers, I _really_ mean it this time. Please?”

“Please? Are you kidding me? What kind of dorky threat is that? You askin’ me to give that warning a serious thought, babe?”

Sorey narrowed his green eyes at her. “Stop calling me babe, will you? Half of the Academy already misunderstands, and you’re only making it worse!”

Rose ignored that and grabbed one of the cupcakes on a cooling tray, the one with the thickest pink icing on top. “Whoa, this looks absolutely tasty!”

Sorey tried to move the tray away but not before Rose had practically swiped the sweet-smelling treat right from under his nose.

“Hey, not so fast that one is—please, Rose, put it back!” Sorey pleaded in a way that could make even a vile fiend feel guilty. Not that anyone could blame him. He worked for hours just to get the icing right for _god knows_ who, so yeah, he is willing to fight anyone tooth and nail for it.

Even if that shameless, blue-eyed redhead happens to be the meanest rapier-and-dagger Adept of the _Knights' Own,_ Sorey Archer will not yield any more cupcakes. No, he cannot and _will_ not…

“I swear by the Innominat, I’ll turn you into whatever happens to that cupcake!”

“Oh really?” Rose flicked her tongue suggestively at him, as if she had not quite irked him enough. “Like you can make me gooey after licking me like this?”

The door swung open and a fully-cloaked figure in white stepped in, seeming to cast a silver glow wherever his shadow slightly strayed. Even his pale skin seemed to radiate silver, almost transparently pure and white in its radiant sheen...

In its untainted and flawless perfection.

Lavender eyes gave Sorey a flicker of attention, one that lasted for only two seconds—barely even—before the quiet gaze shifted somewhere, anywhere else, albeit too politely. In those two seconds, Sorey felt he had swallowed a mouthful of sand that lodged in his throat and made it unbearable to speak.

Not that being speechless in front of the protege was a particularly uncommon reaction. It was just that Mikleo standing there was too breathtaking to ignore, and the fact that he seemed rather clueless about it only made him all the more attractive to Sorey... 

"Sorry to interrupt the romance. I’m going straight to my room so you can go on with whatever you’re doing.”

"Ho-hold on, wait!"

Light boots clicked as the figure headed for the hallway right across where Sorey and Rose stood, Sorey leaning over Rose as if they were just about ready to kiss. But of course, that would be simple misunderstanding from the point of view of any uncaring onlooker.

That onlooker just happened to turn a little sideways, but he did not meet Sorey's gaze just yet. "If you want me to step out so you can take your time..."

Summer-green eyes widened in panic. "No-no... that's not it..."

Rose would have pushed Sorey away to make things clear, but one look at the graceful exhaustion and stoic nonchalance on the Herald's face and her curiosity was piqued. It was not surprising that the young man had been notoriously given the title of  _Snow-Queen_ around the Academy, an undying gossip that went beyond the confines of the Wizard's Own.

Of course, it would have been nothing more than a simple case of iconic fancy had the subject been a member of the fair sex. In the case of the rare, silver-haired beauty whose sensual charms betray an ambiguity beyond second glances, it is easy to see how  _that_  tiny little detail immediately sinks into irrelevance.

Just watching Sorey through lidded amusement, Rose already felt like screaming. The dork looked like a puddle of melted ice cream with a death sentence, and it was hardly even funny.

_Really, have you got nothing more to say you useless nerfherder, you!_

The tall, stalwart young man in front of her stood frozen like a statue. Rose remembered something and swore under her breath. _Yeah, why do I keep forgetting how useless your cognit skills are at this point?_

She cleared her throat gruffly, feigning an innocent, wide smile. “Uh-oh-hey there, man! How’s your day? Pretty rough, huh?”

Mikleo stopped midway but seemed hesitant to look at Rose as she spoke. Sorey, contemplating what Rose _really_ had in mind, felt his heart sink into the nether regions. He was so nervous, in fact, that he was hardly aware that he was still pressed onto Rose's lean figure aggressively, hardly aware what vision he was presenting to any unknowing bystander. As for Rose, she seems to be enjoying the misunderstanding quite viciously—though it hardly looks that way—as her question hung uncertainly like a broken spell between them.

The awkward gap only made Sorey want to swear. It is common knowledge in the Academy how annoyingly casual Rose can be with anyone, a charm that works in her favor with respect to half of the male species in the Academy. Unfortunately, it also made her the secret envy of yet another half—the more brutally outspoken half made up of female knights and mages.

Anyway, leave it to the Sparrowfeathers to be oozing with confident friendliness... a _genuine_ disguise that has served many a knight and spy in her family for centuries.

The figure in white finally makes a slight sound—if lip corners barely curving into a smile can ever make one—then hesitating, flickers a look at Sorey.

To Rose, _that_ look seemed just a little  _too_ evasive.

“Thanks for asking, but really, there’s nothing so remarkable about my day. Now if you’d excuse me… I’m heading to my room. Goodnight.”

Sorey sighs inaudibly at the silver click of a door latch. 

Mikleo Grailstorm, the youngest senior in the Wizards' Own, the one-and-only student in the entire 500-year history of the Academy deemed worthy of the _White Herald_ ’s title, may look nothing older than thirteen, but in truth the so-called "pride and genius" of the school lives up to his status. While mages have to struggle through twelve levels to be even worthy of an Enchanter's title, the said protege had practically breezed through the Mage, Enchanter, and Sorcerer levels to become a Herald in just four years. And to think he had begun his training at the ripe age of thirteen as had most students, to become an Adept at barely sixteen. From what Sorey has heard, the Herald is just a few months past eighteen and already one step closer to earning the much-coveted Wizard's title, which most Professors had earned in their thirties and forties.

About a third of the students drop out of the Academy at Level 2 or 3. In the mundane world, one can discreetly work out a decent living with those skills.

Sorey swallowed hard as he gently pushed himself away from Rose. Dimly, he realized that wanting someone like Grailstorm, someone so hopelessly beautiful and attractive that it hurts to breathe when he thinks about it... is just too much for him to handle, way _way_ too much. And as if all the saints of Asgard have been conspiring to make a joke of him, this of all days, of all the 600 days of the _Nef're-ling_ calendar, is the very first day that he and Mikleo are staying together as roommates.

For the second time tonight, Sorey wished the earth could swallow him whole as Rose nibbled on the assaulted cupcake.

“Hey, c’mon, it can’t be _that_ bad.”

Sorey almost crumbled under the merciless weight of that sympathetic gaze. “Really Rose, it feels so much worse when you sound like it’s _really_ bad. I think I just blew it…”

“Blew what? Nothing happened. He’s probably too tired to even make anything of it.”

Sorey gave a low sigh. “Yeah, that's like saying I should be glad he hardly knows I exist.”

“Well, we can try and make mewling noises all night to see if he’s got any jealous nerve in his bone to begin with.”

“No way, I don’t want getting his attention _that_ way. If anything, I want us to start out as friends… and maybe become more as we get to know each other.”

“Assuming he’s a _shei'rinne_  like you… There might be rumors but, to be honest, even I couldn’t figure out _what_ he is. True, he doesn’t have that manly aura about him... and  he's practically evasive when it comes to both sexes... Sheesh, and to think I’m really good at sensing these things a mile away!”

“Well, it’s not like we have visible birthmarks to begin with," Sorey tells her, dumping a large mixing bowl into the sink. "And I don't suppose soul-bonding between males is a standard anywhere, even here in the Academy. For certain no one speaks against it, but I'm not sure if it's tolerated either... I mean, you can tell it's an unspoken taboo once you start reading those footnotes. Other than that, you have nothing but instinct and gossip as a precaution.”

“True enough. This Academy's got some nasty history nobody really wants to talk about. But seriously, how long do you intend to keep leading your female fandom on?”

Sorey peeled a sheet of paper towel and began wiping sticky dough stains off the table counter as Rose handled the mopping with her usual boundless energy.

“I'm not leading them on, Rose. For all we know, they’re just crushing on a horrible dork who looks absolutely great in a uniform.”

Rose catches his ironic grin. "I only agree with the 'dork' part. The rest is delusional."

"Yeah, I flatter myself too much."

“Nah, to be honest, I love the sweet dorkiness. You don't get to meet someone like you who can smile on any day even when there’s nothing to smile about.”

“Oh yeah? And you're the type who can chop someone's liver and make him thank you for it.”

“Eeew, isn't that a tad gross? You should have a bite of your own cupcake to sweeten you up a bit!”

“I think I’ll pass. Besides, I'm saving these for breakfast. I just hope Mikleo likes curry with raspberry and mint pudding. I'm sure Mom's recipe is a lot better than what they have in the cafeteria.”

“Whoa, already calling _the Queen_  by his first name, huh?"

Sorey felt a slow heat pool in his stomach. "Mikleo's a rather nice name, don't you think?"

"Oh yeah? And speaking of recipes, I really have to hand it to you! Aunt Selene's cooking is the best... I mean, your inn's reputation goes beyond every border, and any outsider who visits always has something good to say about it! So, you probably figured out by now that the fastest way to a man's heart may indeed be his tummy, huh?"

"Gods, you're exaggerating as usual."

"But, know what? I can't let you enjoy that feast all by yourselves! That's why I promise to be here first thing in the morning!” 

Sorey's smile freezes over like he has just been cursed. “No Rose, please!”

Rose gave him a nasty smile and a resounding slap on the back. “Hey, relax, I’m not all that dense! Besides, I’d rather imagine you two doing each other on the table right after breakfast! With nothing on you but that stupid apron!”

Sorey shook his head. “Any more of that, and I’ll seriously tell Alisha to bind you in chains, put you in a box, and leave you drifting over Ladylake.”

"Well..." Rose blushed. “She already did that, you know. Without the drifting over Ladylake thing.”

Sorey scratched his cheek. “Seriously? Why the hell would Alisha even think of it?”

“Oh gods, are you even real?" Rose drawled with a slight, breathless sound. "You really think I have the energy to lecture a seventeen-year old virgin right now? Unless you're planning on paying me with all those cupcakes or inviting me over for breakfa—”

“Thanks for the warning, but it's still a 'no' all right? I mean, this sounds weird but... I hate for Mikleo to feel more uncomfortable than he already seems to be with us… or anyone.”

"What makes you think that?"

Sorey looked sideways. "Not sure. Just that he seems to be uninterested in talking or doing anything that involves people."

"Think he's full of himself?"

"I won't go that far. I don't think he's being deliberately indifferent, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, I notice he's shy... or maybe just emotionless."

Sorey frowned at that. "I wouldn't say that either. But he does easily get anxious with people around him... like a fish out of water."

"Or a duck in an aquarium."

Sorey raised an eyebrow. "That image is too challenging for me."

"Just because I don't read poetry or those architecture books that nobody ever reads 'xcept you doesn't mean my imagination needs some help, you know!"

"Fine, look, all I can say is, as much as Mikleo seems daunting to the rest of us, he's probably just as intimidated as we are. He may be a hot topic for everyone but... I guess the more people swamp you with expectations, the harder it is to be honest about yourself. Especially when all the Academy ever cares about is how good he is... or how he might be the most promising Wizard they could brag about to the Empire when it comes to that."

Rose chuckled. "All I remember about the kid is how he broke my rapier _that_ time during weapons class."

"You don't mean the one you got from Gramps as a birthday present, do you?"

"Well, he replaced it with a mighty expensive one that really looks awesome, anyways!"

Sorey glared at her. "You didn't bully him into it, Rose, or did you?"

"Whatever, I learned to forgive him after that! But know what? I ain't gonna be dueling with that kid anytime soon, nah-ah. He's skills are fatal. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone thinks the same."

"Yeah, as a Herald, he probably knows that's exactly how the Academy wants him to be treated... a frozen idol on a pedestal."   

Rose grinned in between bites. "C'mon, doesn't everyone love that feeling? I know I would."

"Must feel good until everyone starts acting weird or awkward around you, like they're not expecting you to even act _normal_ around them either. So you do your best to somehow blend in, but then it gets pretty annoying 'cause everyone seems to be waiting for something... like a sign that you're practically dying to belong and be accepted, or that their approval matters in most things. You start believing their way of thinking is good for you, so you let it become a habit until it grows into an obligation... You begin to feel their need for reassurance so you start acting cool, like you're no different from everybody else. It's a heavy burden if you think about it."

"I guess everyone needs a psychological handshake once in a while... is that even bad?"

"Maybe, maybe not? Though I could imagine him doing his best to resist that kind of pressure. So he's let them build this invisible wall around him until those walls started getting thicker and higher, and now he feels so... trapped... and he can't even fight it because it's a defense rather than an attack..."

Rose seems too caught up in the explanation to even bother with the awkward gap. "Go on, I'm listening."

Sorey lets out a sigh. "If I had to deal with it, I'd probably do the same... I'd rather be the one avoiding people instead of killing myself with worry about all the possible reasons people don't wanna be friends with me."

"That's a... pretty astute observation."

"I'm not even good at mind-reading like _some_ people are," Sorey tells her with just the slightest tinge of regret. "Though I feel like a sneak doing something so underhandedly."

"Hey, for a _cognit_ like myself, you shouldn't be saying such awful stuff! I mean, mind-reading can be fun, you know!" 

"Well, I kinda figure how gambling might be fun with it."

Rose gave him a twitching glare. "Look here, are you saying I cheat at poker?" 

"Admit it, your wins kinda stretch the meaning of coincidence beyond the imaginable!"

"And yours doesn't?"

"Like I told you, my mind just blocks any thought that's even remotely about me. It makes my so-called 'gift' practically useless where it _really_ counts." 

Rose suddenly remembered throwing Sorey a mental line that concerned Mikleo, which ended up being deflected. _But those thoughts were about another person so how come..._ Then Rose figured out something. If Sorey's real feelings were involved, it seemed highly possible that any person connected to those feelings would be an extension  of him... _So anything related to that person would likewise be unreadable, huh? Tough luck you got there..._ Rose shook her head.

"You're doing that again."

"Doing what?"

"Over-analyzing something on your own. You were shaking your head just now."

Rose rolled up her eyes. "I see... gods. Well anyways, I do dig you if we're talking about mind-reading opponents to anticipate attacks. But I guess it's even _more_ frustrating when you think about those secret crushes you're missing out on, huh?"

Sorey shook his head. "My imagination can't keep up with yours."

Rose swung a carefree arm around Sorey's shoulders. "C'mon, think what you can do if you can get into that pretty little head of his! You might be surprised that your roommate isn't such a prude but has his own dirty little secrets, y'know, those harmless, horny fantasies every healthy teenager must have? I'm sure  _that's_ something you can take advantage of with plea--whoa! Sheesh, stop that, you brat!"

Sorey splashed some soap suds onto her, his face a mask of unreadable red. "It's not about getting laid, all right!" 

"Yeah well, what are cousins for anyways if I can't be all frank and honest with you! The thing is, even for someone like me who has zero attraction for the opposite sex, I can say Grailstorm's allure can be a little... uh, scary? Setting aside those looks anyone would kill for, his natural aptitude is too calculatingly accurate you can almost say it's deadly. I've seen him duel a hundred times, and I can't remember him making any mistakes he can't self-correct. All it takes is a few words, and he understands exactly how to fix it."

Sorey exhales. "It's like he's been over-analyzing himself the entire time so he gets what goes wrong the moment it happens. Like a chess piece he predicts every turn according to rules and strategies and plans all his moves from there."

"Is that a problem?"

"When you think too far ahead, you kinda end up overwhelming people without knowing it. Though in a real battle, that's more like the perfect approach. You see actual results so you can refine your skills up to a point. But in the world outside those things, there's no one _right_  or _wrong_ way of reading people no matter how predictable they seem on the surface."

"Yeah? A lot of people are just a bunch of pretty liars, huh? I kinda agree."

"I guess when you're dealing with people, it's easy to misread something, but there's just no easy way to correct yourself when it happens. Almost everyone uses a mental defense of some sort... to hide what hurts or makes them vulnerable... so there are more things that's bound to be buried and lied about than expressed. Even cognits can only read too much into things. It's not hard to imagine how Mikleo might feel if he's left on his own to deal with all that."

"Hey," Rose grins knowingly, teasingly. "So you really _do_ give him a lot of thought, don't you?"

Sorey turned his back on her. "That's just you putting a romantic spin in everything I say."

"Kidding aside, ever since I've known you, you've always had this sensitivity that works for the other person... like a need to know what the other person really feels deep down inside. It's not that strange... but maybe I just got used to the weirdness!"

Sorey shakes his head at that. "That just gives me a better reason to make Mikleo feel at ease. I want to know who he really is behind the mystery, that cool facade that seems unbreakable. I mean, no matter what happens, being friends is always a good thing, and I can be all right with that for now, I guess?”

“Huh, until you toe the line and he friend-zones you like a jerk! Let me see you smile through that one!”

“Know what, Rose?" Sorey throws her a warning look. "I could always tell Alisha everything you’ve been up to this week, which includes coughing up your allowance on a stupid card game then spending all your wins on a birthday present you could hardly afford. So you're practically broke and owe me a thousand gald on top of that!”

“Fine, sheesh, give it a rest, all right? Besides, it’s not like your threats even work, you know!"

"Yeah, bet they don't, huh?"

"Look, I’m not scared of Alisha, got that? Well, not always... I mean definitely no!”

Sorey raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Wanna bet on that?”

“Oh god, now you’re the one who’s being annoying!”   

“Right, let’s just finish this before it gets really late. I could also use some sleep.”

“If you ask me, what you _really_ need is someone to sleep with.”

“I’m really calling Alisha to come pick you up…”

“Can’t take a joke? I’ll be done in two seconds then you can call Alish if you want! Not like I care, you dork!”

Sorey shook his head before slipping his sparrow, a ringlet mages use to send messages over short distances, back into his apron pocket. He gives the kitchen a sweeping look and sighs. Of course there would be a lot of cleaning to do, but even so, even with all the exhaustion and disappointment throbbing in his nerves, Sorey knew it would be a long, sleepless night.

Contrary to what he was leading Rose to believe, this night might just be one of many sleepless nights to come. 

 

**o----------o)O(o----------o**

  

 


	2. Camlann's Mage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things found and lost my be found again. If only life were so simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some changes by the way: I shortened the title to "A Mage's Pawn" from "Magic's Pawn, Magic's Price" which sounds pretty much like Mercedes Lackey's novels. As for the "Symphonius" incident, it happened six, rather than a hundred, years ago. I made that correction here and in chapter 1.
> 
> I've also decided to use telepath rings or "sparrows" for phones. I don't think I can harmonize old and modern technology without being a little awkward. ^_^ 
> 
> To my dear friend out there, I know some of your fave writers have taken a hiatus. I hope this compensates even a little... it's not worth much but I do hope you enjoy it. Take your time, I know you can do it! Get well soon. ^_^
> 
> Also, thanks for those who gave kudos and comments. This is for you guys, and have a great week!

**o----------o)O(o----------o**

 

_He won't be yours… no way will I let you have him…_

_Will not let? That is not the proper answer, Mage._

_You don't understand. Those emerald eyes… they’re different._

_Know this, Errant One: they are all the same. Need you be reminded that your blood, your power, your life—your everything—are such as the contract makes them…_

_I'm a monster all right... but not the monster you make of me._

_Holy you are not, tainted you may be, but your existence is no longer your own. For ten thousand years, the children of Veld’raas, Enmity's Offspring, Harbingers of Calamity, have been kept at bay by the power of the mages. But now is different. Your race has been beaten down, your domains scattered and broken among ruins of fallen empires… And you, you whom these fools and traitors mock by a useless title, are no more than a remnant of the Forsaken Ones._

 

_I fall when I fall… not by your will… nor by the power of your gods._

_The price of magic is none too great, a contract forged with Dreldas and sealed with the life-blood of your race. It cannot be revoked by any power among the living._

_Worry not because I promise to die soon enough._

 

_Know this errant Mage… your death shall be one written in our blood, not by thy sheer will alone…_

 

  **o-----)o(-----o**

 

Sorey could not sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, feeling cold trickles of sweat prick his skin like ice needles, but it was not until he got up that he realized he was not alone in the room.

There in the light of the moon, across a window flung wide open was a vague silhouette of blue-tinged mist spiraling upwards, slowly, curling and wavering around the edges. At first it seemed nothing but a cloudy haze of smoke, but when Sorey reached out to touch it, something within its wispy fringes jolted to his touch, the frigid air visibly tangling into wavy knots before receding under the blue, speckled moonlight.

Sorey got up, tempted to test the illusion by plunging his right hand into the curling mist. The sensation was like a shock of cool water, wrapping itself around his hand with a shuddering grip. He flinched but found himself mesmerized as the frigid air took on a slight, purplish hue, first circling his arm, then the rest of his body, before spiraling away to form an amorphous column of smoke. With a curiosity he could not name, he flung both hands into the pillar of shape-shifting mist, feeling something shiver in his grasp with an electrifying intensity. 

“Please, stop that.”

Sorey pulled back with a jerk as if the voice itself had scorched him. Maybe it did, but more than that, it was a voice he thought he knew.

“M-Mikleo?”

The smoke coalesced, then began a spiraling climb that emitted faint, incandescent sparks of deep purple that swirled and flung themselves into orbit around an orb of white light that grew in the center of the fog. Sorey watched in awe as the circle of light expanded, wavered, flickered then shuddered, solidifying into a form that was enough to take one’s breath away.

Lavender eyes blinked with mild confusion as if slowly adjusting to its immediate surroundings. Starkly naked, the shape glowed under the streaming moonlight, bathed with a sheen of ethereal azure that, to Sorey, gave its complexion the smoothness of alabaster, finely sculptured in all the right places. 

“Mi-Mikleo?” Sorey blurted out, uncertain if he wanted the fantasy or the illusion, whichever it was, to go away. Hesitantly, like a child forbidden to play with fire but could not help himself, he reached out to touch the exposed cheek with a tentative finger, trying to hold himself back even though he was more than eager to give in to the temptation. He shuddered as an unbelievable coldness bit into his skin. 

“What the—Mikleo! Gods! You’re—you’re absolutely freezing!”

A flickering gaze passed through him like a dagger of ice, making his insides shiver. He almost pulled back with a stutter, but the paralyzing stare held him like an iron grip.

“And what if I am, Sorey?”

The tone was unfamiliar, but it was hardly  _that_ which made him almost jump. For the first time in his stay in the Academy, for the first time since they have been roommates barely two weeks ago, he has heard his name—his _first_ name uttered by those lips. Suddenly he found himself mesmerized, unable to flinch away from the penetrating gaze that seemed able to pierce through any resistance. 

“So... uh, hey, uhmm… Mikleo… do you mind if I ask what you’re doing here at this—”

“Listen…” the stern voice interrupted him with a seething coldness, an unfamiliarity that almost seemed unkind. “Are you even aware that you almost woke up the entire Academy?”

“W-what? I was having a bad dream when something—“ He remembered the smoke that curled around him, on top of him minutes ago and the voice that roused his senses like fire through ice. “Was that you? I swear _something_ woke me up!”

“So you… still don’t understand. That thing—”

Sorey could not help but watch those pale lips tremble slightly, as if speaking was a feat. “Are you all right? Mikleo?”

Mikleo moved a hand across his eyes, lowering his gaze to the floor as if a few words have completely left him exhausted and close to fainting. But he managed to stand still even though a greater part of him just wanted to give in to the sensation of falling… and maybe not waking up.

The effort was hardly lost on Sorey. He held Mikleo by the shoulder, suppressing the shocking feel of cold and clammy skin beneath his fingers. It almost seemed like he was touching flesh that had been left in the ice to freeze.

“Gods, Mikleo, what happened to you!”

Something in the way Sorey cried out his name roused Mikleo from the seemingly drunken stupor that muddled his thoughts. His concentration still felt out of line, but the surge of awareness flooding back into his senses gave him a slight sense of relief. Sorey’s voice pierced through him like an arrow, like a sting that made all the sensations around him suddenly clear and vivid. Nevertheless the sheer pressure of those thoughts and images realigning themselves, trying to mold themselves back into the reality of the moment felt like hot coals searing raw and naked flesh. His mind reeled from the pain as if it had been whipped, the mental anguish familiar yet every bit as unbearable as the first time, no matter how many times he had told himself he should be used to it by now.

Besides that, his insides were in a knot, making him want to vomit. He lurched a little forward, his stomach trying to hold in whatever it could as tears stung his eyes with the sheer effort of tolerating nausea.

“H-hey, are you all right? Does it hurt anywhere?”

He lifted his face to Sorey, wondering at the intensity in those large, green eyes that held something close to innocence and pained concern. “Nowhere that would kill me.”

Sorey frowned at the harsh pull of breath that muffled the response he got. “I think you need someone to take a better look at you. Should I call the Prefect?”  

“No, please, that would be bad. Give me a moment, I’ll be fine…"

“You look anything but fine.”

“I said I’ll be all right.”

“And I’m saying you’re not. You're… wilting like a flower…”

“A flower, huh?" Mikleo groaned. "Of all things… you sound like a kid. And I'm no damsel either.”

Sorey winced. “My bad, what I mean is…”

“What’s your level?”

“My _what_? What’s that got to do with any—”

“Just answer my question.”

“Got promoted to seventh this month.”

“Oh, and you’ve been here for how long? Six months? That’s almost quick.”

“Uh, not really. I started at third. Compared with you it’s nothing—”

“My point, Archer. As it is, you’re not in _any_ position to worry about me.”

“Look, can you push it down a notch? I just wanna help!”

“Yeah, right, and I thought I was the one who came to someone's rescue,” Mikleo huffed, feeling the stiffness in his shoulders relax a little even though something was riffling through his stomach, making him _really_ want to throw up this time. Searching for a distraction, he noticed his nightclothes lying in a puddle at Sorey’s feet. It made him realize that he was completely naked, completely exposed to Sorey's unflinching curiosity.

Following the direction of that gaze, Sorey felt his skin prick with a furious heat. It was only then that he started to notice that the room _was_ cold, so he walked up to the windows to shut them, pulling the curtains back a little to let in just enough light.

“By the way…”

Mikleo sensed his self-conscious distance. “What?”

“When you say 'rescue' you didn't mean I was attacked, did you?"

"I came just in time."

"I appreciate the concern but... being my roommate doesn't mean you have to look after me or anything.”

"If I wasn't babysitting the five-year-old you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Fine, I owe you. Just rub it in, then."   

Mikleo shivered slightly, though he found the darkness a little soothing. “Look, I don't mind arguing, but could you, by any chance, toss me a blanket?”

Stuttering a ‘yes’ Sorey grabbed at the one within reach, shoving it in Mikleo’s direction while avoiding his eyes. Mikleo took the proffered bundle, wrapping it around his body with mechanical concern as he desperately tried to keep himself steady. Every inch of him felt raw and sensitive, throbbing with such an intense pain that almost felt as if every vein in his body had been twisted, as if every muscle had been torn from bone and sinew. His knees shook, and his feet felt cold and numb as if he had been standing on a sheet of ice with nothing in between. On top of that, his stomach felt like a huge rock has been plunged into it, roiling up all its contents that now rose to his throat.

His noticed Sorey shifting his weight nervously, keeping his distance. Although the slightest physical contact makes his skin bristle, he found Sorey's evasive glances and startled looks even more unnerving.

 _He's really acting like a kid..._ Then again, there is something cute in that too. He took a deep breath, wincing at the nervous thump in his chest. Talking makes him nauseous but...

“By the way, thank you.”

Sorey nodded quickly, assuming he was being thanked for the blanket.

“So tell me… what could an incubus be doing in your room?”

Now _that_ was unexpected. Sorey could not help being flustered at the question. Having taken a course in _Elementary Spirits and Elementals_ , he knew as well as anyone that an incubus is a—

“We both know what it is, don’t we? Unlike you, I’m _not_ a cognit so I’m just guessing from pure common sense what you must know by now…”

Though the urgency in Mikleo's tone was hard to ignore, it was the word _cognit_ that Sorey could not help reacting to. The jargon is an overused one in the Academy, becoming a household word unlike so many others found in the _Lex Magus Lexicon._ Basically the term applies to a mind-reader, a memory manipulator or a thought-thief, as non-mages and outsiders might rudely label it. Warlocks and battle-mages have been known to use the skill with flawless ease, though almost any magic-wielder or eclectic knight is said to possess some natural ability to manipulate it to some extent. Prohibited uses of it abound and have been likewise documented but never taught, such being more or less associated with  _mooncasters_...errant mages who practice forbidden techniques such as necromancy and demon-summoning.

To say the least, being a cognit is almost no different from having some sixth sense that naturally sets one apart from non-mages. It hardly seems special unless it comes with a rarer form of ability like empathy or weapons casting, which are considered higher skills in the Academy.

So knowing just now that Mikleo, the Prefect's _perfect_ protégé, does not possess this skill and even had the candor to confess such a weakness was almost enough to make Sorey gag. Then again, he could only hazard a guess as to whether the audacity had any hidden motive. After all, most people with hidden strengths have been known to expose their own vulnerabilities with the intention of misleading potential rivals and enemies.  

As for the term _incubus_ , it has enough unpleasant connotations to make him flinch for yet another reason under Mikleo’s scrutinizing glare.

The awkward silence must be deafening even for the silver-haired Herald who eyed him a little too warily.

“An incubus is a level six parasitic spirit… a _paranorm_ that feeds on a host’s sexual energies. It’s not as bad nor as dangerous as a _hellion_ , but it’s still a menacing adversary. It can suck you dry and leave you for dead if you’re stupid enough to let it have its way more than once.”

Sorey nodded slightly. “I know what it is.”

“Then I guess you’ve already answered my question…”

Sorey felt his insides churn with a rush of heat, but he had to meet that abrasive, accusing glare.

“Look, I’m sure it’s not—no, it _can’t_ be an incubus—I mean how—how the hell could a thing like _that_ even get in here?”

“Are you saying you’re not the host?” Mikleo huffed, a look of incredulous annoyance visibly twitching the corner of his eyes. “If you’re not feeding it, then who is—”

“I didn’t call it out, I swear!”

“Wait, maybe I should have asked why you’re even releasing that _kind_ of energy.”

“Are you saying I did something to attract it?”

“Incubus are selective. They're dangerously sensitive to a host’s thoughts, feelings… urges… things that feed their lust. With that in mind, I assume we’re all past puberty and it’s embarrassing—”

“Hell, that explanation is the one that’s embarrassing!”

Mikleo was startled into a pause. Still holding the blanket into a tight knot, he inched toward Sorey, leaning forward. “Well, excuse me, Archer but I would have had my doubts if you hadn’t touched me more than twice. And the third time was like the worst…”

From the look in Mikleo’s eyes, it seemed impossible to miss the _real_ meaning behind the glare. Sorey swallowed hard, realizing that his face must be a scarlet mask of guilt and shame by now.

“Look, how would I know that was—I mean, I’ve never even guessed _that_ mist was a part of your—uh, your body—I mean I wasn’t even sure I was awake, everything looked like—you looked like a dream… _No_ , sorry, what I mean is—”

"No need to kill yourself over it," Mikleo cut him off, walking past him and toward the bed to sit on the edge of it. By the way his shoulders slumped, Sorey realized Mikleo must have been _that_ exhausted.

“Is it… all right if I stay for a minute?”

Sorey’s eyes widened. Mikleo’s voice sounded small and weak as if he could barely catch his breath. It was enough to make him forget what they were arguing about.

“Sure, no need to ask, all right?” Sorey sat on the other side of the bed lightly, careful not to dip Mikleo’s side. “You could even lie down if it’ll make you more comfortable. Is there anything I can get you?”

Mikleo shook his head then looked sideways. “About what I said… I’m sorry, I think that came out wrong. Just wanted to tell you that if… if I didn’t hold back, I might have accidentally cut off your fingers back there. Turning into a mist is not one of my fondest skills.”

Sorey knew the truth behind the warning. Mages, after all, normally use up _all_ their mental energies, shutting off their awareness of any extraneous factors that may scatter their focus. What it means is that any unexpected interruption, any distraction at all may cause collateral damage if it happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And that victim could have been him. Given Mikleo’s full strength, the damage would have been far too costly and regrettable for apologies.

He caught Mikleo rubbing his right temple with a slight wince.

For some reason Sorey found himself staring at those long, tapering fingers making circular motions as Mikleo tried to comfort himself with gentle strokes. His eyes were slightly closed as if he was trying to find some relief from a throbbing headache. Vaguely, Sorey wondered what it would feel like if those fingers were rubbing against his skin…

He had to give himself a mental kick to stop those thoughts. Then, remembering something, he reached behind Mikleo to pull out a drawer from the bedside table where a clutter of books fell sideways as he rattled the darn furniture left and right when the drawer got stuck halfway. The commotion was enough to pull Mikleo’s attention toward it, making him slightly curious as Sorey reached into the drawer to show him a tiny flask of green liquid. Faintly, the substance exuded a light, musky, herbal fragrance—just the right sweetness that reminded Mikleo of something distant, almost unreachable… something that felt achingly familiar and yet…

Sorey’s voice was bright and clear, rousing him from those unwelcome thoughts.

“It’s something I got from home. Mom insists it’s better for colds and headaches.”

Mikleo found it a curiosity that Sorey spoke so openly of something quite personal. It was tempting to tease a little. “So does that mean you’ve always been sick as a child?” 

Sorey chuckled. “Hey, don’t get so cocky! Moms just typically worry about almost everything... not that I'm not used to it. She even sent me all her favorite recipes, afraid I might starve myself to death if I start missing her home-cooked meals. She always tells me health is more important than studying.”

"Or maybe she thinks you're not gonna learn healing so soon so you need to take better care of yourself."

“Yeah, right.” Sorey caught the joke. “But no offense, old cures are still the best. They’re fairly simple and handy. Just a drop on any sore spot you've got, and that's it.” 

"That almost sounds too good to be true." Mikleo gave him a rueful half-smile as he reaches out to take Sorey’s offer.

"Hey, if I'm wrong, you can charge me three hundred gald for it."

“Is that a dare? I’m not the type to take anyone’s word for it, but I’m no scaredy-cat either. So you want me to try this right now?”

“Hmm… have you used oils before?"

Mikleo liked the fragrance enough so it was hard to say no. "It doesn't seem all that much complicated, is it?"

“Uh…” Sorey blinked, feeling his stomach squeeze a little. “If it’s all right, I—I can lend you a hand—uh, only if you need any help...”

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“Uh, I can rub it on you myself.”

“I see what you mean…” Mikleo’s breath shook as he laughed with suppressed effort, almost causing Sorey to fall off the bed. “So, you're finally admitting you want to touch me that badly?”

Though there might be some truth in that tease, having some secret flaunted so bluntly was something else. Sorey stopped his breath, feeling a scorching heat climb up his neck and face like an itchy sunburn. He looked away, unaware that he was pouting visibly.

“Well, yeah, what a vain peacock some people can be!” he accused, unable to keep his voice from faltering as Mikleo made faint choking, giggling sounds. “Why don’t you just take that with you and… and let me get some sleep, all right!”

Mikleo looked at the flask with disbelief then stood up almost hesitatingly. “I didn’t know you get pissed really fast.”

Sorey thought there was something in that tone that seemed almost regretful. Without knowing why, he grabbed Mikleo by the wrist, almost rudely pulling him back to the bed.

“Hey, look, I just feel bad knowing I put you in danger. I can't stand you getting hurt…”

Mikleo felt oddly conflicted as he looked at the fingers still wrapped around his wrist. Sorey did not seem like he was about to let go, and the grip did not feel uncomfortable at all. If he could be honest, what seemed harder to ignore was the genuine concern that was making the mood just a little too awkward for comfort. 

He met Sorey’s gaze with a slight frown. “I wasn’t blaming you for what happened. If I seemed insensitive... well that's just how I am when I worry.”

Sorey felt his chest squeeze a little. "You were really worried about me, weren't you?"

Mikleo rolled up his eyes. "Tell me, who wants to bother with a brat like you?" 

Still, the remark sounded more like a denial than an afterthought. For some reason, Sorey could not feel annoyed even if he tried. He looked sideways.

“I haven’t tried driving away spirits so… it’s kinda hard to admit that I let my guard down, harder still to have someone else see that. I hate looking helpless around you.”

Mikleo seemed to be struggling not to laugh. “Get over yourself, Archer. I never said I wanted to be impressed.”

“Hey, aren't you flattering yourself a little too much? I’m not a fan, you know!”

“Right. You’re easy to please and easy to upset. Makes me wonder what _other_ extremes you are or can be.”

“Well, you have to admit I'm useful in the kitchen.”

“Oh yeah…” Mikleo glumly thought. “Those cupcakes last week were so good I lost my appetite for anything else. Honestly, I should hold you responsible for ruining my diet.”

Sorey’s doofus smile shone like a ray of sunshine. “Hell, if you had told me that earlier, I would have baked you all kinds of cupcakes the whole week!”

“Hey, not so fast, just because we’re shielded doesn’t mean you can overuse the oven! Besides, do you even enjoy it that much?”

The warmth of Sorey’s smile was disarming, and for the life of him, Mikleo could not help but wonder how many times the younger mage must have given him that look without him noticing. “Oh c’mon, Your Majesty, can’t you tell?”

Mikleo knew the false title was meant to taunt him, and he winced visibly. “Right, I can almost see what a wimpy mage you’re gonna be! No wonder you attract all kinds of disasters!”

“Hey, one bad spirit doesn’t make an entire calamity!”

“Oh really?” Mikleo returned the mocking grin. “So are you saying it’s all right to be sexually assaulted by such vile creatures every single night? After all, level six spirits are always starving. They don't stop until they’ve completely drained their host of his dark mana... all those physical cravings, pent-up sexual desires and frustration…”

“Fine, fine, c’mon!” Sorey yelped, feeling another awkward blush coming. “I already get it!”

“Well,” Mikleo paused, “the more important _fun_ fact is that some paranorms actually behave like a pack of rabid wolves. Once they’ve found a suitable victim, they call on others to plan their next attack. They also share their catch quite generously.”

“It’s horrible all right, but…” Sorey frowns, eyes transfixed in concentration. “For the sake of argument, isn’t there the slightest possibility that it's not an incubus at all?”

“ _Lockar's Prime_ says elaborate theories aren't practical when a simpler explanation would do.”

“Well, you wanna argue this one out?”

“Even for the sake of argument, I insist it's a paranorm, an incubus to be exact. There’s no mystery there worth contemplating.”

“C’mon, even some of our books say there are spirits which can metamorphose into almost anything! So there’s a one-percent chance it’s a _hygrilia…_ you now… uh, an undocumented spirit, sort of.”

“So you think _your_ probability of one-percent has as much weight as _my_ ninety-nine? Seriously?”

“Hey, no matter how small, it’s a probability that exists.”

“You’re forgetting, probabilities _always_ exist. That’s not enough reason to ignore an explanation that’s so simple it’s almost common sense.”

“Admit it, nothing is certain until it repeats itself.”

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. “So it's fine having a repeat of this incident?”

“No… I mean… if we need a confirmation…”

“Then please, confirm this for me. If it wasn’t an incubus, why do you think I had to get naked just to distract it from sucking you off?”

“W-what!” Sorey was so shocked he virtually stuttered the entire syllable out, cheeks flaming. “Did it do anything to—uh, I mean—what if something happened to you—”

“I would've survived, and nothing else would’ve worked as fast.”

“That—that’s no excuse!” Sorey told him angrily, grabbing his wrist again. “Look, I know you're better at these things than anyone… but still… wouldn't it have been easier for you to wake me up so I can deal with it myself?”

“You're being an ungrateful child, aren’t you?” There was a hint of playful irony in Mikleo’s voice, though his face had a stern and emotionless expression.

“I don’t want you-anyone getting hurt because of me.”

“Then stop attracting paranorms. Don’t you know how to take care of your sexual urges in private?”

Sorey felt his face getting hot. “As if you do!”

"What!"

Mikleo's stricken expression told him he has made a slip, but it was too late to take anything back. He could only give himself a mental punch for being so careless.

Mikleo was pissed. “I don’t even have any to begin with!”

“Bet you've never even heard of it, huh?” Sorey found himself grinning beneath the deathly glare.   

“You don’t believe me? How about you? You’re… I heard you’re from Camlann…”

“And?” Sorey felt a surge of panic, afraid that any criticism from Mikleo might crush him. He tried to steel his racing heart. “How is that related to anything we’ve—”

“If I recall, it has one of the highest birth rates in the past two decades.”

“Are you saying we’re more promiscuous than most people, is that it?”

“I’ve… also heard a lot about you… like you practically go for anyone who likes you.”

Sorey let go of Mikleo’s wrist, surprised that he had been holding onto it all this time. “That’s—those are just rumors—hell, you think I’m _that_ kind of guy?”

“I don’t know. Am I supposed to think about guys in the first place?”

“No—well—is there any problem if you do?”

“I don't know why we're even discussing this.”

“Look… about guys thinking about other guys… do you… sort of resent that?”

Mikleo winced. “Just drop it already, will you? Going on about it makes us sound like idiots.”

Sorey looked sideways. “But… Mikleo, do you _seriously_ hate me?”

“Am I so transparent?”

“Sheesh… I was wrong to even ask…”

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Archer,” Mikleo was laughing now, his voice shaking as he barely managed a smirk from escaping. “No one in the Academy has ever argued with me the way you just did.”

“My bad. I promise I won’t—”

“Gods, what I’m saying is it’s fine, all right? Besides,” Mikleo found himself looking down, "...it's been a long time since I've enjoyed a conversation, I guess?" 

Sorey’s eyes shimmered with relief. “Wow, it's your first time complimenting me. I was hoping you'd say something like that when I asked if it were okay to be your roommate.”

“Excuse me, unlike you I don’t see the logic behind being _too_ friendly.”

“Yeah, whatever. But if you don’t mind, could you just call me Sorey? It’s not like you’re a lot older than me. If anything, you actually look younger than most people here…”

“Looks are always deceiving, haven’t you learned that enough?”

“I don’t care. Besides, you already called me _Sorey_ a while back.”

Something in that made Mikleo flinch in surprise. _Was I even conscious when I did that? Or are the Dreldas trying to tell me that they already know—_  

“Mikleo, you all right?” Sorey noticed that his pupils dilated as if he had just seen or remembered something unpleasant all of a sudden.  “Uh, Archer is fine if it makes you feel less awkward—”

“N—no, that’s not it. I just—” Mikleo struggled to cover up his distraction. “Sometimes my mind lags a little when I exert myself too much. Sounds stupid, right?”

“Nah. By the way, we're equal now 'cause I'm used to calling you Mikleo…”

“You’re the only one who dares,” Mikleo huffs a little. “Though I doubt if we should call each other so informally in public. Your fans might get a little suspicious.”

“Oh, that—sheesh—I’m not even seriously close with anyone at the mo—”  

That made Sorey realize something, his eyes widening like he has just had an epiphany.

Mikleo felt the weight of his stare. “Look, what is it this time?”

“Y-you’re—you’re actually talking to me!”

“Oh, dear...” Mikleo shook his head in disbelief. “And here I was worried my mind lags a little.”

“N-no, no, I’m serious! I thought you really, _really_ hate me or hate talking with anyone—”

“I still do. I mean, not with you, that’s for certain, but I guess with everyone else? Normally, I’d think ten times before speaking my mind _before_ deciding not to.”

Sorey stared at him wide-eyed. “No kidding, huh? You can survive without talking with anyone at all—I mean—gods isn’t that being cold?”

“So?”

Sorey continued to stare in disbelief. “So what made you decide it was all right with me?”

“It wasn’t even a conscious decision. And it’s not like you’re different or special, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Ouch. That was a bit harsh.”

Mikleo laughed, covering his mouth. “To be frank, Sorey, I heard you’re the only cognit around who can’t decipher thoughts when they’re about you. You’re actually the strangest anomaly I’ve ever met in person.”

“I don’t know if I should even consider that flattering. So you mean you feel more comfortable talking to me just because I can’t read your mind?”

“Well, I’m not a cognit… so I don’t know what it’s like to get into people’s heads to find thoughts... ideas… or even memories. Just imagining all that is scary enough as it is, after all, what if you find something bizarre you’re better off not knowing? But having that power, it’s almost like playing god. It’s probably even more daunting than any other mage gift out there.”

Sorey scratched his cheek. “Hey now, you’re forgetting you’re the protégé around here! As for me, I can’t even use my ability when it matters, like I can’t even protect myself by reading what the other person’s about to do if he wants to attack me.”

“Maybe it's a sign you’re meant for better things…”

Sorey considered that for a second. “That really sounds good, but I don’t really know how it works. I mean, you’re giving me far too much credit.”

Mikleo shook his head. “If you think about it, what you have is a rare gift that forces its wielder to become selfless… It’s as if by blocking your self-awareness, your cognit abilities make it so much easier for you to focus on those around you and to put their lives before your own.” 

Sorey felt the kindness in that simple, straightforward explanation, enough to make him feel warm inside. He could not help but laugh off the compliment though, feeling suddenly shy and awkward as if he has just received a proposal.

Across him Mikleo’s lavender eyes smoldered. In the dark they looked menacingly beautiful yet daunting… like a perfect blade forged with the purest and rarest of fires.

Sorey found himself smiling like a dork again. “Look, I get that from Rose too… but it’s not like I have heroic sensibilities or anything like that. I mean… saving others is a choice we all can make if we’re brave enough not to lose to our fears.”

“Really now?” Mikleo’s mysterious smile made Sorey’s stomach flip backwards and do somersaults. It was almost unbearable. “I can’t believe something so painfully agonizing for others is just simple logic for you. In the real battle that theory might just win a war.”

Sorey shook his head, feeling the heat rise in places he would rather not name. “Nah, I’m just trying to sound cool is all.”

Mikleo smiled softly, eyes seeming to weigh those words carefully. Sorey held his breath as the quiet gaze met his, giving him a lingering, restless feeling in the pit of his stomach that this—this is definitely not something he had felt or seen before. Nothing so endearingly beautiful and mesmerizing could have made him feel this way until this very moment.

“I’ve always had the impression you're far smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

Sorey knew he was getting dangerously distracted. “Huh?”

“Like I said, I’m not a cognit, though my _empath_ skills may be higher than average… but from what I can sense around you, I say you really have a strong, natural intuition. You’re a practical person who doesn’t rely on theories. Even when you’re inclined to believe in what you actually see and experience, plunging your hands into my mist so carelessly when you had the chance, you resist your inclinations and pursue an alternative course by arguing just like you did…  And all because… you’re not as afraid of being wrong as the rest of us.”

Sorey chuckled, eyes darting sideways as he rubbed his right cheek. “I hope you’re right, Mikleo, though it would be _too_ cool if you are!”

“It’s not a big deal, Sorey. It’s not like I said I love you or anything.”

Sorey froze, or at least his mind did. _Love?_ Did Mikleo just use that word? Back where he was raised, in the village farthest from the Imperial Capital, bordering the steep, frozen climes of the Mabinogio, he has rarely heard anyone use such a word. He remembers his Gramps saying that such words are never to be uttered except in the sole presence of one’s _shi’yei_ , one’s beloved or _soul companion_. Using such words in public, even in jest, is almost taboo, an indecency worth the worst reprimand from the elders.

For mages, personal feelings… bonding… forging relationships with others are no less complicated matters. For one, male-female bonds are severely hampered by the loss among female mages of the ability to bear children. It seems that the mage bloodline continues with those whose abilities remain dormant, inactive, but never with those who luckily ( _or_ unluckily) have been able to unlock their potentialities. Something about the practice of magic artes seems to make the capacity to bear children impossible, making it an urban legend that mage craft is indeed a taboo, one which comes with a curse that keeps mages from breeding among themselves…

As if those limitations are not enough, the Academy's code of ethics imposes iron-clad rules on personal relationships, prohibiting mages from forging bonds or becoming each other’s _Chosens_ without the Prefect’s approval…

Although many like Rose and Alisha were allowed to forge temporary partnerships for practical reasons, clandestine pursuits are basically frowned upon and discouraged under the rules of the _Lex Ruminus_ , a code which restricts the use of certain kinds of magic artes to Chosens or mated pairs. In a way, a _Chosen_ is a contract of power between magic-wielders, a special trust invested with rights and obligations, and a chance to use  _soulmagic_ that must be so demanding that only those who have compatible spiritual energies may practice its forbidden artes without risking their lives, even if permanent injuries are inevitable.

The attraction of the forbidden, however, is almost natural, even if costly. Sorey could not deny hearing rumors about the infamous _Symphonius Incident_ of six years ago… the suicide of twelve full-fledged mages who purportedly used some kind of dark or flawed magic. They say it was a foolish experiment instigated by curiosity; others say the reason was more personal, more intimate.

Reminded of it, he could not help but feel a twisting ache in his chest. Whether in the mundane world or the nether worlds, love and romance seem to be an elusive and dangerous thing, and yet…    

Before him, Mikleo’s gaze was straightforward, an unflinching resolve carving itself into his memory. There was a certain audacity about him that seemed as alluring as it was dangerous, like a secret with all its potent charm. 

Mikleo peered into his face. “Hey, what’s gotten over you all of a sudden?”

“Huh? W-what do you mean?”

“You seem to be in another world just now.”

Sorey smiled impishly, knowing there was hardly any reason now to feel so guarded. “We are in another world… and would always be, I guess?”

“The sense of belonging somewhere is kind of overrated, if you ask me. It's not like magic users should even _want_ to belong anywhere. Personally, I'd rather live without a leash. But, of course, that's just wishful thinking.”

“You know…” Sorey found himself whispering vaguely, head snapping forward. “When you put it that way, suddenly I feel as if taboos can't be all that bad.”

“I was afraid you'd say that. Though you seem horrible at lying, something tells me you're awfully good at keeping secrets, am I right?” 

“Maybe?” Sorey edged closer, pushing Mikleo’s shoulders down gently onto the bed even as lavender eyes looked at him in surprise. But it only took seconds for Mikleo to feel something reassuring in the warmth of that touch, enough to make him relax easily into Sorey’s tentative caress.

Mikleo felt his skin bristle slightly though the uncanny feeling disappeared quickly. It surprised him that he did not feel the least bit afraid or wary as he thought he might.

Sorey's hands were rough and gentle at the same time, a little bit calloused maybe but not enough to make him feel any discomfort. “Uh, Sorey, just one more thing.”

After pressing his back to the bed and carefully putting a pillow under his hip, Sorey took the bottle from him and broke the seal on it, releasing a heavy but intoxicatingly sweet and minty scent that just about made Mikleo ready to drift off into sleep. “Hmm? What is it?”

“Uh, if you don’t mind, do I really have to be naked in this massage of yours?”

Sorey felt like laughing, feeling half of his nervousness dissipate by the matter-of-fact tone Mikleo used that sounded just a little bit silly. “Not really. Am I making you feel uncomfortable?”

Mikleo wanted to say yes, but it seemed like a stupid weakness that one cannot confess so lightly. He shook his head. “Whatever works for you works for me.”

“You bet,” Sorey chuckled softly. “And tonight, I guarantee you'll get the best massage you’ve ever had in your life. I hope it makes up for everything I owe you, even if it's nothing as heroic or earth-shaking…”

“So do you actually have three hundred gald on you right now?”

Sorey felt his insides quiver as he found himself laughing at the tease. “I'll make you regret saying that!”

Mikleo’s tight grip loosened itself involuntarily, and the blanket fell off his shoulders as he rolled onto his stomach, exposing his entire back to Sorey. He could feel the cool night air brush against his skin, and he would have easily shivered were he not _too_ distracted by Sorey's wistful expression. Suddenly he found himself wondering what it would be like to be a mind-reader, so he could find out what Sorey was thinking about as he looked quietly at him, emerald eyes taking in all of him with uninhibited, wide-eyed curiosity.

Nothing so intense, and yet so honest and pure had gazed at him with so much tender kindness that Mikleo felt his insides melt, felt them quiver in anticipation of something he could not even name even though it seemed as clear as those pools of summer green flooding his vision...

He felt his lids grow heavy as his mind reeled from the exhaustion and the warmth of someone’s touch brushing against his temple, down his neck and shoulders then further down as the silky feel and scent of lavender coaxed him quickly into sleep.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

“Look Sorey, I know you've done a lot of crazy stuff before, but what in Heldalf's name is _that thing_?”

“Be easy on him, Rose. He wanted to try a new recipe… and I’m glad he thought of inviting us over to have a look.”

“Please Alish, save that crappy sympathy for later. That is, if we’re still alive after tasting that jiggling disaster he’s just pulled out of the oven!”

“It’s called _amen’cher rioupollet_ Rose!” Sorey corrected her with a frown.

“Whatever. To me it looks like an oven-baked hellion with strawberry icing and lemon syrup!”

“Rose, cut it out,” Alisha begged, smiling behind her hand. “You know it’s his special treat for someone.”

“Oh yeah? You want us to go ready the funeral?”

Alisha gave Rose a withering side-glance. "Be nice."

“Look, I’m sure it’s not half as bad as it looks!” Sorey whined—or more like it sounded like a whine grating on Rose’s nerves. “I mean, it does have all of Mikleo’s favorite ingredients…”

“How sweet!” Alisha gushed with a helpless giggle, ignoring Rose’s darting glances.

Groaning loudly, Rose could only watch Sorey with a glum expression as the latter tried to balance a pan that held what seemed like a spongy cake that looked too heavy for its size, like its filling seemed ready to burst out of its pores. To Rose it was an unholy abomination that deserved instant death.

“Oh holy Maotelus, help us!" Rose sputtered. "I mean, seriously, and I don't even care if you're tired hearing this... that cake looks like a volcano exploding with hellion juices right off the crater!”

Sorey set the pan down carefully then flung a warning look at Rose over his shoulder. “Stop it, all right! Your insults might jinx it!”

Just hearing them argue, Alisha had difficulty holding back her laughter. From where she sat next to Rose, around a quaint dining set between the kitchen and a modest living room, she could watch Sorey with quiet satisfaction as he busied himself with dinner. Right now he is balancing another cake pan of goodies pulled fresh out of the oven, gingerly shifting it from one hand to the other.

Alisha could not help feeling warm as she gazed at his strong, lean frame. Somehow the matching strawberry apron and over-sized oven mitts make him look even dorkier than his average dorky self.

She hardly noticed Rose’s apparent discomfort until the redhead spoke to her. “If I were you I wouldn’t be _too_ impressed.”

“Uh, what was that?”

Rose looked away though Alisha could still see her pouting like a spoiled teenager with issues. “Just saying, I’m sure _his_ Mikleo would have the nicest shock of his life!”

“I guess?” Alisha smiled fondly. “After all, it’s easy to get used to Sorey no matter what he does. I could almost imagine Mikleo falling into the same routines as Sorey.”

Rose is a cognit, and she knew better than anyone that she would be breaking a promise if she used that skill on Alisha but… “Oh hell, like you did?”

It might have been just a little louder than a careless whisper, but Alisha caught it anyway. “Rose? Are you all right?”

Sorey put the tray down with a sigh of relief then turned to face both of them, wiping the sweat off his brow with a frown. “Really, I’m not sure what you two are arguing about, but I was hoping we could have a small get-together to enjoy ourselves after the exams were finally over… And Rose…”

Sorey gave her a look of concern. “Don’t pick on Alisha too much. She’s not the type to argue with anyone unless you push her to it.”

“What, you like her now more than me?”

“Uh… what?”

“Look, Sorey, just ignore that—” Alisha looked worried.

“Nah, it’s fine, I just don’t get it. You mean _I like Alisha more than I like you_ … or _I like Alisha more than you like Alisha_? So… uh, which one is it?”

Both Rose and Alisha breathed a heavy sigh of relief, but it was Rose who spoke first. “Gods, you dork! Some things you overthink and still you miss it!”

Sorey smiled ruefully. “I think everyone knows the answer to either one anyway. Rose is Rose, and Alisha is Alisha. You’re both special to me. Though on a regular basis, Alisha is your better half, I guess? You’re both stubborn but, at least Alisha doesn’t argue with me as much as you do.”

Rose made a gloating sound. “Yeah, Alish is so nice she can’t tell you right now how horrible that cake looks! I bet even animals on starvation wouldn’t touch that thing!”

Alisha pinched Rose, kicking at her shin under the table as she gave Sorey an exaggeratedly warm smile. “I wasn’t thinking that, Sorey! I’m sure Rose here is just trying to humor you!”

“No, I’m actually putting my insults to good use, you know! Like convincing someone not to commit homicide before graduation!”

“Hey, my cake isn’t going to kill anyone!”

“Oh, which reminds me…” Alisha pulled something out of her handbag, something wrapped in gold tinsel with a ribbon for holding. “We bought something for you, Sorey. Just a small present from me and Rose.”

“Oh sheesh… you shouldn’t have!”

“You know, I couldn’t agree more! She shouldn’t have!”

“Hey, it’s your cousin we’re talking about!" Alisha pouted at Rose. "Besides, not everyone graduates from tenth level so quickly!”

“For the record Alish, I did!”

“No need to compare now, Rose.” Alisha patted her head. “Knights don’t use magic the same way everyone in the Wizards' Own do.”

“Yeah, _your_ Own has too many levels if you ask me! Mages have to pass twelve levels to become an Enchanter, and then you have to pass some more exams to get to become a Sorcerer after which—if you’re lucky to be still alive—you can go on to becoming a Wizard if you manage to survive how many encounters?

“At least five duels with the Own's Adepts, three with our very own professors… and then another three in the actual war zone,” Alisha answered, counting them off her dainty fingers.

“Sheesh,” Rose groans, rolling up her eyes. “Does it take that many skills to stop a war?”

“More like to make one,” Sorey added glumly. “How bad is it out there, I wonder…” For a moment Sorey felt homesick. “Oh, and you’re forgetting Heralds,” Sorey added with the slightest chagrin.

Rose snickered. “Right, of course, your special someone is a _Herald_ , how can we forget? The only one in almost 500 years this Academy has been around. Would anyone remind me again what’s so special about it?”

“Well…” Alisha looked down thoughtfully. “A Herald is a young Wizard who hasn’t fought in an actual battle, though technically he’s already passed all the other tests… am I right, Sorey?”

“Yeah…” Sorey answered softly, eyes lost in deep thought.

"So it's just one step away from being a Wizard..." Rose thought glumly. "Heck, doesn't every mage have to go through that anyways... I mean if he wants it _that_ bad to become a Wizard? Doesn't make any sense why a title has to make it so special."

Alisha looked away. "There are... things in the Own that no one's allowed to poke into. Each level has its own rules but as for the _Herald's Code_... they say only the Prefect knows enough about it. Even the Archives have nothing specific on the subject..."

"Sheesh, you mean to say the dude's a walking myth then?   

Alisha shook her head. "Not all mysteries are myths. And sometimes, there's a good reason why _some_ secrets ought to stay the way they are."

"That's almost scary! You mean you want to keep secrets from me?"

"I'm thinking of professional stuff, Rose!"

"Like military tactics, huh?" Rose noticed Sorey's evasive glances. “Hey, don’t tell me you’re worried about your boyfriend going off to war?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Rose.”

“I know but… you’re avoiding the topic aren’t you?” Alisha elbowed Rose just then, wanting to shush her. Her mouth just happened to be a lot quicker, though, to Alisha's endless chagrin.

“It’s just that… Mikleo’s been a Herald for over a year now and—and I’ve been hearing stuff around…”

“Look, the war ain't gonna happen so soon, and I can guarantee Camlann’s safe, all right? Besides, no one back home seems to worry about it! And Aunt Selene's so calm and positive. Besides, if something's up I would've heard it from Brad.”

“I guess that’s one worry out of the way then…” Alisha chimed in.

“Huh, wish I could agree with that completely!" Rose blurted out. "We all know the Empire’s been wanting to annex all the borderland kingdoms for the longest time, and every peace negotiation’s so far failed. The Regalian Council is not happy that we’re sending another cavalry to back up the civilian armies at the militarized frontier just outside the neutral zone. Though I heard the Pendrago Council might really declare a new—”

A boot heel pinched her foot, and Rose almost yelped. She caught Alisha’s steely glare that spoke whole volumes, her head shaking slightly. Not waiting for Rose to give her any reassurance, Alisha looked away and smiled in Sorey’s direction.

“Oh, Sorey, which reminds me, aren’t they having your graduation at the same time as the 500th anniversary program slated next month?”

“Yeah… it’s going to be pretty hectic I suppose…” Sorey’s voice trailed off as he tried to keep his mind off the subject. Alisha felt his discomfort and nudged Rose slightly.

“Uh, oh, by the way, did Aunt Selene say she’s gonna come? Sorey?”

“Uh, sorry… this pan is really sticky. What was that again?”

Rose groaned a little, though her eyes could not deny that she understood what was going on as much as Alisha did. “You’ve thought of asking anyone back home to visit? To congratulate you, you know.”

“Yeah, I did. Mom has mentioned wanting to come at least once.”

“Aunt Selene must be pretty excited, isn’t she? I could remember how Brad was when he came to _my_ graduation.”

“Brad? Is—is he your dad?” Alisha’s topaz-green eyes smoldered.

“Yeah, though more like my foster dad. They say he took me in when I was two.”

“And… you really call him by his first name like that?” Alisha looked mildly shocked. “Without honorifics?”

“Is this the very first time you’ve heard of it?” Sorey asked, suddenly curious.

Rose met his stare then looked away. “Well, actually it’s more my fault. I don’t put family and personal stuff in the same box. Besides, it’s not like Alisha knowing _that_ would make any difference.”

Sorey shook his head and looked at Alisha with a helpless smile. “Rose has been like that since I’ve known her. We kinda just got used to her running around the house calling Uncle Brad like he’s a fond pet or something.”  

“Hey, I still can’t forgive him for naming me the way he did!”

“What’s so bad about it?” Sorey asked, removing his mittens then dumping them into a nearby dish towel bin. “In the ancient tongue _Rose_ means _the blood that lets the bloodflower bloom_. I think it’s rather… unique.”

“Yeah right. Makes everyone think I’m a heartless assassin!”

When she said that, Sorey noticed how her shoulders sank. He started collecting the used kitchen utensils and cake pans, dipping them in warm water which he used to fill the sink. He knew it was not his place to explain any more than he needed to.

“On second thought, you’re more like a heartless lover to me,” Alisha playfully says, fingering a strand of Rose’s hair that, with its rich red color, was a striking contrast to Alisha’s almost ghostly pale skin. 

“Oh god, do you want me to leave the kitchen now?” Sorey asked, wiping his hands off his favorite strawberry apron.

“You jealous?” Rose quipped.

“Me? How?”

“You know… wishing you can do all sorts of crazy things with that beautiful roommate of yours.”

“Well… Mikleo’s skin _does_ feel rather nice. I guess it’s something to look forward to when we’re… uh, no, never mind.”

“W-what—hey! You’re not saying you’ve already hit a home run!”     

Both Rose and Alisha stared at Sorey with frozen expressions.

“Hey, enough I was just kidding, sheesh! That was just my fantasy running away with me, ha ha!”

“Uh, whose fantasy is running away with whom, exactly?”

A deeply-rich voice with a slightly stern texture, yet haltingly soft enough to be almost effeminate, echoed in the living room just as the front door shut closed. Sorey almost dropped the empty cake pan he was holding.

Mikleo in all his regal, white glory stood just a hair’s breadth away from the peeking shadows. Though the same aura of cool indifference seemed to pervade his presence, Rose could sense a slight tinge of peaceful calm about him, far from the brash, stoic animosity he seemed to exude back then when Sorey had just recently moved in as his roommate. The subtle, yet no less charming difference, was enough to make her and Alisha stare with a little more than curious interest. What seemed more striking though was the uncharacteristic softness in his still-somewhat evasive glances, in the way the corners of those sensuous lips curved slightly into a vague half-smile, which cannot be perfectly hidden though suppressed.

“Sorry I was late. Something came up so I had to stay behind for a few minutes. So… uh, what’s up?”

Rose still could not believe this was the same student protégé they were talking about a little more than two months ago. The awkwardness was still there, but a soothing confidence seemed to have replaced the cold neutrality of his habitual tone as well. Gingerly, she smiled at the comparison. It reminded her how time flies, or rather, how things have somehow managed to change so quickly without the transition feeling forced or unnatural despite the fact that the two mages seemed to have nothing in common to begin with. 

“Dinner is ready. Want to have some cake?” Sorey asked with a bright, goofy smile as he bent down to pick up the pan he did drop. “Uh, unless you prefer uh… cookies? I made some sweet gingerbread with raspberry icing.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna look for cupcakes?” Rose asked, sensing Mikleo’s hesitation.

Mikleo walked up to the dining table and took a chair beside Alisha. “Uh, not really. Say, is that the cake you were talking about? It looks good.”

Sorey served him a slice on a white ceramic plate with gold fringes. “Go ahead… I hope you like it.”

Rose and Alisha watched him with awkward stares as he was about to bite a mouthful. He stopped and stared back. “Something the matter?”

“Uh, sorry, don't mind us! just go right ahead, please,” Alisha told him.

Rose narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him as he swallowed. “So… as Sorey’s guardian, mind if I ask? Are you two already having sex?”

Mikleo felt his heart spasm as he felt the last morsel slip down the wrong way, sending him into a fit of coughing. Thankfully, a glass of water was within reach, which Sorey had served with the cake.

“Rose! What the hell was that—oh sheesh—hey, Mikleo, are you okay?”

Alisha stepped aside as Sorey rubbed Mikleo’s back. “Uh, oh, do you feel like throwing up? Is it the cake?”

Mikleo’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to breathe. “No… no… I’m… uh… I’m fine… sorry… about that.”

Alisha looked forlorn. “Please, don’t be mad at Rose! She means well!”

“Are you kidding me?” Sorey frowned, his face all red. “How can _that_ kind of question mean well?”

“Oh god, you mean to say you two have been living under the same roof for two months, have been sharing all these treats and goodies every single night, not to mention exchanging dorky-sweet smiles and hand signals around the Academy in places almost everyone can see, and you haven’t gotten it on yet? What are you? Chastity boys saving your virginity for the end of the world?”

“N-no, Rose, uh, I guess, you have it all wrong,” Mikleo told her, eyes squinting as he tried to breathe normally. “I’m sure Sorey doesn’t think of me that way.”

“As a cognit you want my honest opinion?”

“Rose, please, let—let ’s just get going, sheesh… thanks for having us, Sorey but we really got to go! Rose, come on!”

“W-wait! They haven’t even answered my question yet!”

“That’s the idea, Rose! I swear I’ll never let you bother Sorey ever again if you don’t shut up!”

“Hey, what a meanie! Look, Sorey, I need a little help here?”

“Bye Rose. See you on my graduation!”

“What! That’s at least three weeks from today!”

Sorey winced. “I was talking about my final graduation from the Academy.”

Mikleo sighed. “That’s gonna be at least four years from now… if you could pass all five mage levels in one year and also one year for each level after that. It’s a rather optimistic estimate.”

Sorey shut the door after Rose had been dragged out of it by Alisha. “You're kidding, right? Four years sounds like forever!”

Mikleo gave him a suspicious glare. “What exactly are you planning? It’s not like you need to hurry all that much…”

Instead of joining Mikleo at the table, Sorey decided to step into the inner kitchen to do some cleaning. He picked up a pan and began scrubbing it diligently, making scraping sounds as Mikleo looked on with a perplexed expression.

“Hey, are you all right?”

“Yeah? I think?" Sorey tried.

"Not even sure, huh? You want me to ask the same question until you can give a straightforward answer?"

Mikleo could be very persistent, and Sorey knew by now just how much. "All right, sheesh, it's just that I... I heard something…”

Mikleo finished the rest of the cake. “Care to be specific?”

Sorey shook the remaining soap suds from his hands then grabbed a dishtowel to wipe off the excess water. He looked away, unable to face Mikleo's honest gaze.

“I heard the Empire's been pressuring the Academy yet again to lend its resources for its military campaign. There are even rumors that Camlann’s making preparations for an all-out war… though no one’s confirming it.”

Mikleo paused to think. “I know you're worried about your family… and I guess you’re aching to get out of here and lend a hand. I’m not sure if it helps saying this, but we all know how the Empire has been ambitiously crushing all opposition to build a consolidated alliance in the west, and seriously, it’s become more desperate than before. Though there's no confirmation as of this time, there are reports that the Northern Alliance has just ratified a treaty..."

"What for?'

"They want an independent council that runs like the Pendrago... a government that recognizes the independence of each of the northern states. In other words, they're  setting up a union that goes against the very alliance the Empire has been waging war to build.”

“But th-that—that’s insane! If the north starts withdrawing its support for the Empire..."

"The Mage Councils of Eldra'an and Ne'edras already have the same in mind. They're expecting things to get a little out of hand as soon as Helmsdall starts withdrawing all the support that’s helping keep Pendrago on top of things. We all know how dependent the Empire has become on the aid of the north that's actually keeping this war at a standstill. Without it, local rebellions would have been enough to put down the Empire's dream of a consolidated autocracy a long time ago.”

Sorey paused in the middle of scrubbing. “But a war with Helmsdall is the worst thing the Empire can get itself into…”

“It is. On the other hand, though, shouldn’t that be a bit reassuring? Camlann could take advantage of the situation and seek Helmsdall’s support. At the same time, you’ll have the imperial army worrying about something else than witch-hunting and plowing down local provinces that wanted to remain neural.”

Sorey tried to sound less agitated. “Y-you’re right I suppose.” But try as he might, Sorey knew that was not exactly what was bothering him. And it was just as frustrating to realize that things that should bother him were being set aside because of his own feelings.

Mikleo’s breath was close to his ear before he realized it. “The cake really was good. I’m sorry if I was rather late… I wonder if that was the reason Rose was being such a tease? I know you’ve been looking forward to this holiday, and Rose even said she wanted to play some board games—

In the next minute, Sorey’s hands were digging into Mikleo’s hair as he caught the Herald unaware to give him a deep, lingering kiss.

It was wet, heady, impulsive, and inexperienced… but Mikleo did not have the hindsight to pull back from it as Sorey grabbed him by the waist and pulled him into a crushing embrace.

Mikleo was breathless. "Sorey! What are you-"

“They’re not sending you into that hell, are they?"

He found a second to think and gather his thoughts. Sorey's ragged breathing was keeping him distracted enough to put up any effective resistance. "Is that what this is all about?"

"Look, I don’t even know what you think of me… and nothing gives me the right to stop you or to make you listen. But I swear, Mikleo, I think about it day and night, and I don’t want you getting that stupid Wizard’s title and being assigned in some bloodbath! I heard so many horrible stories about it… like no one ever gets to come back…”

More than ever, Mikleo could feel Sorey’s heart racing underneath the tunic and apron he was wearing, making it almost impossible to concentrate on the matter of questioning Sorey’s impulsiveness. In a way it was both revolting and appealing to be held like that, to be pressured into receiving sensations, emotions that have not been asked for. In his life no one has dared make demands on him, to impose their presence on him, or to force him into submitting to their whims, even if such were hardly threats to his sense of peace.

Notwithstanding, Sorey’s broad and muscular frame was almost squeezing every breath from his body. The tenderness was almost reckless, stubborn, yet also endearing. If there was anything he could fault Sorey with despite his charming boyishness, it was the fact that he could be so terribly honest and sincere... exactly the same things which make him so damn irresistible as well.

With Sorey there is no need to read between the lines.

No need to make second guesses.

No need for unraveling symbolic mysteries or overthinking.

Sorey is as clear as a summer’s day… and just as breathtakingly pure—or at least Mikleo had hoped.

Mikleo eased himself out of the hug as gently as he could, so as not to hurt or be rude. Sorey, sensing his motions, let him slip away just a little, his arm still around Mikleo’s waist.

“I guess you hate me now more than ever, huh?”

Mikleo could not figure out whether smiling or frowning was a better approach. The gaze was too intense for comfort, but he tried to match it. “I would have punched you already if there was any truth in that.” 

“Can-can I kiss you again?” Sorey’s eyes, more than his voice were soft, pleading like a broken prayer. “I’m not gonna touch you if you don’t want me to… but just a kiss is enough for—”

Sorey’s eyes widened as Mikleo sank into his chest, his wonderful scent flooding Sorey and making him want to burrow into Mikleo's hair. Lifting his chin, Mikleo planted a light kiss on Sorey's lower lip. The sensation came and went before Sorey could even react, but it was enough to make him want more.

Mikleo nudged him with an elbow as Sorey seemed bent on stealing another kiss. “Well, I hope a massage isn't asking too much… my shoulders are kinda stiff today…”

“I—Mikleo…” Sorey pushed him slightly away by the shoulders with a penetrating gaze, unable to contain the heat that was making his knees go weak. “It’s—it’s not like I can’t or won’t… it’s just that… if I… if you let me touch you like that right now… I might not be able to stop this time... I might end up doing more…”

Mikleo felt the scorching gaze burn through his soul, but he could not look away. He wanted to say something, but there were no words he could think of to match the intense passion in Sorey’s own. He could only sigh helplessly at the agonized shimmer in those deep, green eyes. “Sorey…”

“I’m sorry, I’m just… not as in control as you think I am! Every time I touch you… gods I want to rough you up real bad! I want to knot inside you, fill you up… and... and make you mine…”

Mikleo shivered slightly as it became painfully clear what Sorey meant. His groin was hot, so hot it was seeping through their clothes, heating him and telling him how hard Sorey was. His manhood was clearly aroused and throbbing, warning and seducing him into oblivious submission.

Mikleo leaned slightly into the embrace, letting his neck rest on the crook of Sorey’s shoulders and towering frame that exuded a certain kind of protectiveness and obsessive concern that strangely soothed him. It was a strange feeling, something he never thought he could feel with anyone…

All his life he had been told how strong he was, how intimidating and flawlessly honed his skills and artes were. But here in Sorey’s warmth, his scent, his throbbing affections, all that seemed just a passing illusion. Mikleo had never before wanted to feel overpowered, weak, and dependent. He had never before wanted to acknowledge these feelings riffling within him, making him forget that a mage's existence is nothing if not bound to a higher though ignoble purpose. Wanting precious things like a family to be with, or a happy and peaceful life in some quiet corner of the universe is a luxury too dangerous to hope for, at least for those who cannot even own their destinies...

And the more powerful one becomes, the tighter the leash gets. Beyond the walls of the Academy, a Wizard is nothing more than a tool… nothing more than a weapon in the hands of a Master who possesses the Will and the Word to subdue him and use him as he wishes... because every magic has a price.

He could not help feeling an overwhelming sense of helplessness come over him like a wave. In his nightmares he would always be at the mercy of those dark waves rising, crashing, plunging him into the bottomless depths of an abyss that seemed to be the only future waiting for him…

“Mikleo I… I didn’t mean to mislead you. I’ve—I’ve always liked you from the start… even before we became roommates…”

Vaguely, Mikleo felt his insides churn as a numbing feeling began to make his mind swim. Involuntarily, his fingers latched onto Sorey to push him back.

 

_Delusions... fantasies... you have heard them before, have you not, Errant One?_

_All Masters seek power. It is in their nature to beguile..._

 

Mikleo flinched. Like ripples on a pond, distant voices echoed in unison within him, like a painful clarity that stings. 

 

 _Then again, meant_ _you are to be used, consumed... broken._

_That is just who you are._

_Forsaken..._

 

“Mikleo…”

"Sorey, if all you want is to bed me, I can use myskills to keep you satisfied even for just one night. I can prove to you I'm not as ignorant or callow as you think I am—it's just lust and heat nothing mo-”

“That—how can you say it like that!” Mikleo felt the pressure of an iron grip on his wrist and the angry flare of emerald eyes that was more than enough to freeze him in mid-speech. Sorey was breathing hard, and Mikleo could tell he was in a furious panic.

“You think I can be happy just… doing those things to you?”

Mikleo was not sure if he heard that right. “You're not making any sense...”

"That's because you got it all wrong." Sorey let go of his wrist, his arm releasing Mikleo’s waist as well. “I mean... I know you're beautiful, and everyone's dying to get laid the moment they set their eyes on you… and maybe I'm no different..."

"Tell me about it," Mikleo groaned, uncertain why he could not hold onto his anger despite that revelation.  

Sorey held his gaze like a vise. "I want to touch you, bed you, and do all kinds of things with you. But I'm trying to control myself every day because I know that's not the reason I'm in love with you." 

"Oh, god, no," Mikleo groans, shaking his head as something in the mood, the tone, the stubborn clench in Sorey’s jaw was making it impossible for him not to smile even a little bit. "After getting into an argument with me, I'm not so sure why you're confessing, if you are..."

Sorey squinted. “You find that funny?"

"Hilarious."

"I-I’m being serious here!”

Mikleo slid an index finger below Sorey’s chin then traced a line from it to his ear, then his cheek. He could feel Sorey shiver beneath his touch, eyes widening with a mixture of pain and yearning that was threatening to erode all of Mikleo’s resistance. _Almost_ all of it, except that...

“Sorey, I appreciate the thought, but I think you’re twenty years too early to own someone like me. Besides, I obey no master… "

Sorey grabbed Mikleo’s hand, but this time, he intertwined their fingers, his grip relaxing into an intimate caress. “I swear I’ll become stronger than you… and then I’ll be the one to protect you! I know a Wizard’s title will take some time… it’s not going to be easy, but god knows I’d make it happen! I’m going to be a Wizard, and I’d stand by you, and fight with you, and change the world for you…”

“Sorey…”

“Everyone deserves better than this! The Empire, the war… who ever said we have to endure all that? What use is power if we can’t even use it to protect what matters?”

Mikleo flinched at that, pulling away from Sorey’s grasp. “You’ve come to the wrong Academy then…”

“Maybe, but that doesn't matter now, does it? Wherever we go things will remain the same if we look the other way and pretend that nothing can be done. There’s only one world… and that world is falling apart. There’s nowhere to run or to hide… so it’s everyone’s fight for the right to be free. If that makes everyone my enemy then so be it!”

Mikleo felt the dark wave rising again, coming at him with the fury of a raging tempest. He felt his body grow cold and numb all over even when Sorey pulled him close.

_I hate this…_

Mikleo closed his eyes, feeling that same sinister darkness twist and claw his heart like sharp talons.

 

_He thinks he can use you… He must have planned it right from the beginning, and now he wants your sympathy…_

_For him you are nothing but a tool… a beautiful means to his ends…_

_But_ _your contract will never allow this..._

_Dreldas will claim you. He must have you._

_You are his and his alone._

_Our gods will rip him to pieces... anyone who dares lay a claim on you._

_The wrath of Dreldas is worse than hell unleashed..._

 

“Really, I have to hand it to you, Archer…” The moment those words spilled from his lips, Mikleo felt something in his eyes sting, blurring his vision. “You have a charming way of getting on my good side. I never thought you can be this shrewd…”

“What?”

“So you thought feelings like these are enough to alter the destinies written in our blood? You think any promise would be enough to make me forget who I am so I can be used as a tool for your revolution?”

“W-what revolution? Mikleo-I-I don't know what _that_ even means-”

Mikleo roughly pushed him away only to feel a solid wall against his back. He had to lean backwards to keep Sorey at a distance.

"Don't think I'm so naive. I have _no Master_... and I'll never take one for as long as I live!"

"Mikleo..."

Lavender eyes smoldered like live coals, meeting his wounded gaze with a steely stare. "Understand this Sorey. I'll never allow myself to be induced into forming a soul-bond just so I could be a convenient tool for someone's conquests!”

"You think this is about wanting to be your Master?" Sorey clenched his fist at that. “Listen, Mikleo! When I came here, all I wanted was to keep Camlann safe from the Empire! I have a family who’s depending on me, and I don’t want to let them down. Maybe I already did… maybe I shouldn’t have come here in the first place…”

Mikleo could not understand what Sorey was trying to say. Such regretful thoughts sounded completely personal... things he would never ask or expect anyone to share with him. Not that Sorey or anyone even should. Private matters like family or personal disappointments are too intimate, disturbing... fragile. They had nothing to do with him to begin with.

But one look at Sorey, and he knew he wanted to know this part of him. For the first time, he wanted to listen and to believe by his own free will...  

Sorey lowered his gaze. “Becoming a mage was nothing more than a childhood fantasy of mine back then. Maybe that's why I never took it so seriously. When Rose decided she wanted to train as a knight, it got me thinking I didn't want to be left behind. At that time I had skills... but they weren't anything special. I knew they were growing within me every day, but it wasn't like they're any different from what I see from magic users who offer their services to do stuff you can do if you don't mind doing them the hard way. It was only when Camlann's borders were attacked by imperial knights and mages to take hostages... in exchange for provisions and soldiers and healers to provide military support... that I started to understand I needed to take action. But even then, that realization was half-hearted..."

Sorey took a deep breath. "I was naive to imagine that I was ready to take on the world even when I had no idea what I was doing. I've never even lived on my own to fend for myself so when when I first came here, I was a mess. I lost all my luggage and had no idea where Rose was, what to do, or where to go. The strangest thing was, I didn't even feel bad about it. It was easy for me to use my carelessness as an excuse for losing my motivation, my sense of purpose. I just wanted to head back home and admit I wasn't ready. But then, something unexpected caught my attention. I realized I was standing in a courtyard... and there were cherry blossoms drifting everywhere, and the sky was so blue... just like it was back home. I started thinking, home is still the one place that’s more precious than anything I could ever accomplish here... that even if I give up on becoming a mage it wouldn't matter. After all, I'm not the only failure in this world... and giving up a dream is just part of growing up..."

Sorey reached out for Mikleo, feeling his cheeks burn. "But then I saw you..."

Mikleo felt Sorey's breath on his cheek as one finger caressed it with feather-like gentleness, as if he was some fragile creature that could break at the slightest touch.

“I saw you for the first time, standing there so serene… so white and silver and sublime… and so beautiful I couldn't breathe... You were leaning against a tree with a book in your hand, unaware of petals falling all around you, so innocent and content as if you're at peace with the world and nothing, not even hell could disturb your solitude."

Sorey's eyes softened, and all Mikleo could do was hold in his breath as Sorey's own grazed his eyelids. "At that moment, all I wanted was to watch you like that… just you and your quiet universe under that cherry tree. For the first time in my life I realized what it meant to want to protect something it hurts… to want to save something for yourself even if it’s selfish."

Mikleo could not believe what he was hearing. Sorey held him at an arm's length, but the gaze from those deep emerald eyes looked hungry and desperate enough to make Mikleo catch his breath.

"I told myself here is something I wanted to be mine… something I know I needed to work hard for even if it kills me. It was funny I was so nervous and naïve like an idiot, wanting to run back home just because I felt stupid and insecure… but one look at you and nothing could make me leave. I knew I’ve found something greater than all those childhood wishes I'd been hoping to fulfill... I found someone I’m ready to live for and die for… someone I wanted to protect with my everything even if he couldn’t even remember my name when he asked for it…”

Sorey was all red in the face when he finally gathered enough courage to pull Mikleo close and to kiss him deeply, lingeringly, without holding back his emotions. It made him vulnerable, weak and foolish to be this honest… He felt like some callow teenager again, like some puppy who has just lost its way and wanted to be found.

Mikleo threw him a furtive glance, feeling hot and flustered, yet unable to suppress such mundane sensations when Sorey finally broke the kiss.

“W-well, you were staring like an idiot what was I supposed to think? You hardly looked like a mage student then… and I never really bothered with names…”

“I thought so anyway!” Sorey laughed a little though a twisting ache tugged at his heartstrings. “But all that mattered to me back then was I found you, Mikleo… I didn’t know who you were, or if I’d ever get a chance to be near you or to get close to you, but you see…” Sorey touched Mikleo’s cheek with trembling fingers. “I’d rather go through all kinds of hell than not see you again. It’s not like I’ve forgotten my reason for coming here, or that my family isn’t that important anymore. But knowing I could stand by someone like you, I couldn't imagine wanting to be somewhere else at that moment. It’s stupid I know… I've never asked if you could be my reward... but that’s how you’ve been to me since I came here.”

Sorey held Mikleo's hand, rubbing the throbbing vein beneath the palest skin. "You're my reward for everything I can do and I'm about to do... and nothing more moves me to be a better person than knowing I might earn my place next to you someday if I try hard enough." 

Lavender eyes met emerald ones with an impish grin. “Gods, you really are such a dork inside and out, aren’t you? Makes me wish you’re just having a hangover so we can pretend we never had this conversation.”

“Stop acting like you mean that, all right?” Sorey teased with a smile, and for Mikleo it was an achingly beautiful and painful smile. “It’s like all my life I’ve always been afraid of wasting my time, wasting what I’ve got trying to accomplish the impossible. But being with you right now … it scares me too. It gets me thinking that if I die and live again, I might not get another chance to be with you like this… and I can’t take any chances—I—just can't see myself without-”

“Hold on…” Mikleo reached out to touch the tears that have started to ripple in those emerald pools gazing at him with such undeniable pain.

“Maybe I’ve lost my mind thinking about it all the time... but I know I can change things for the better! It might take years… everything I’ve got… and I might lose so much more than I’m willing to, but none of that matters…”

“Sorey…”

“None of it matters because there’s just no point in saving the world without you in it!”

“You really did lose your mind just now, idiot…” Mikleo told him quietly, meeting the stare that was beginning to melt all his defenses away. “And I’m not so sure there's any cure for it.”

“Mikleo I… just tell me something, would you?”

“That depends on the question.”

Mikleo felt a tight pressure on his shoulders, Sorey squeezing him with a panicked grip. “You’re leaving, aren’t you? They’re going to send you to the nearest battlefield… I mean they have to... it’s the only way Wizards can graduate from the Academy.”

Mikleo held his arm, and Sorey knew right away that he must be hurting Mikleo involuntarily. He mumbled an apology that almost made Mikleo smile. “So, what about it, then?”

“What do you mean _what about it_? I’m worried as hell…”

“You worry about everything.”

“Look, do I really have to say it? I don’t… I don’t want you anywhere where I can’t see you!”

“What are you, some obsessed freak?”

“So what if I am?”

“Stupid, don’t admit it so easily!”

“I love you.” Sorey touched the fringe of Mikleo’s hair that almost covered his eyes, feeling it gently, softly like it was the most fragile thing in the world. “If there’s any reason I’m still here, it’s you…” 

Mikleo pushed him away. “Sorey, you understand that nothing you and I say right now is going to change things. I’d still be a Wizard… I’d still have to fight where I’m needed… even if it means I can die. And the same goes for you, as well as everyone in this Academy.”

Sorey pulled him back and crushed him with a suffocating embrace. “I can change all that, and I promise I will!”

“Make me believe it.”

Sorey felt Mikleo shiver against his chest, lavender eyes smoldering as his lips trembled. “Mikleo?”

“Make me fall in love with you, Sorey… and I might believe it.”

Sorey cupped Mikleo’s face and lifted it to him gently, pressing a kiss on those warm lips. “Please be clear on that point. It’s dangerous to misunderstand…”

Mikleo’s hand crawled between Sorey’s thighs, pressing a hardening need there that was eager to be relieved. “Your bed or mine?”

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Twenty years have passed… twenty years, and Sorey could not believe that Mikleo’s kiss still lingered like a burning memory that could not be washed away no matter how many tears have been shed, no matter how much he had grieved his loss.

Sorey stood on the precipice of a mountain cliff overlooking a smoldering horizon swallowed up in flames. Amidst the muffled screams his mind could filter through the yawning emptiness, he still had time to reminisce, to be lost in a daze of thoughts that he knew was only making things more cruel for himself. Time and distance might have made him wiser, but wiser also meant thinking less and thinking more about unthinkable things. Maybe wisdom has also made him more honest, enough to make him accept that thinking is nothing but a distraction in moments such as these, a way to keep himself from remembering things of little consequence now...

Like things of the past he can never _undo,_  even if he might have all the power in the world to tear heaven and hell and put them back together again.

Right now the world is an angry scar, an open wound that burned and cried itself to ashes before his very eyes. Even so, there is nothing here to contemplate as grief. He had already wept too much… cried like a child or a madman he could not tell until his heart had shriveled up inside of him, and his emotions have become like the crusty earth at the bottom of a barren, desert well—broken, used up, and empty. All those years of harrowing despair must have been enough... they should be enough, are they not?

So it was unimaginable that there could be any more hate or anguish, horror or tragedy left in the world to make him weep now. And yet here he is just like yesterday, just like all the days that went before that, feeling wasted from watching and waiting for an end that might never come.

Camlann had finally been taken. If only he had arrived half a day earlier, he could have done something to prevent such a calamity…

Not that it matters. Not that anything mattered since that day…

As he watched with undisguised pain, Camlann continued to burn. It burned slowly, an angry red dot on a desert wasteland below a stardust, moonless sky. He could only watch in anguish at something lost that could never be regained—not that it was the first time he had lost something irreplaceable, and he doubts whether it shall also be his last. The war against the Empire has been going on for two decades… an endless war bought with endless sacrifices and countless agonies. Nothing could excuse what had been taken away, what had been spilled or tainted all for the sake of a dream that held no meaning anymore.

But that did not or _could not_ keep him from marching on against Helmsdall and the twelve kingdoms now fighting on the side of the Empire, on the side of humanity that has declared an all-out war against all mages. It happened on that fateful day that hellions have laid waste the Holy Council of Pendrago where all the leaders of the world have met to negotiate what could have been a compromise to build a temporary peace that would have arrested the Empire’s advance to the north.

And now the would-be enemies have become allies, intent on overturning everything that breathes to purge the world of magic.

What is hated is feared… what is feared is hated. As for Sorey, there is no power that is neither hated nor feared. It can only accomplish so much… if you do not ask for the impossible… 

“Val’run kethra miren’ku mithrin…”

“No need to speak in mage language when it’s just you and me, Edna.” Sorey turned around, meeting the defiant stare of a small, almost tiny figure cloaked in teal blue. “I guess you have something to report… I really appreciate your help.”

She almost winced. “I’m fairly predictable. Or maybe because you’re a Wizard who can just about read everyone like a book.”

“If it’s not about me, that is.”

Sapphire eyes flinched at that. “Nothing’s ever been about you since twenty years ago... when you’ve stopped believing you can be loved _again_.”

Sorey grinned, though his eyes seemed a little distracted. “Are you even proposing? I don't think now is a good time.”

“As if you'd even consider it," Edna winced, voice reverting to a steely monotone. "You really haven’t changed, Sorey. You still look like a teenager and sound like one.”

“My bad, I haven’t really noticed.”

“Yeah, right. Idiots never notice anything until it bites them. I mean, I’ve met enough men around you who’d be willing to give a piece of them just to have a taste of you. Not to mention make a death wish if only it would arouse your sympathies.”

“Let’s not get into that. By the way, how many were we able to evacuate this time? I want to know just how long our supplies might last. The trek to Camoria would be pretty rough underground…”

“You need to worry more about yourself. Those tunnels would be useless if there’s no one to keep guard from above. And don’t forget that we’re up against all sorts of hellionized wraiths and zombies as well… those things that only Mooncasters would bother with. I don’t know where the Empire is getting its underground mage reinforcements but I hate to admit it, those renegade necromancers have more up their sleeves than we do! And to think we’re the _real_ rebels here!”

Sorey almost smiled at that… and Edna knew it was hardly a happy smile. Since she had known this _sei-ya_ , this Wizard who had been traveling alone and friendless ever since they had found him wandering along the Marshes of Valdur or _Hell’s Pits_ as outsiders call them, she had heard nothing from those lips but words spoken with suppressed despair. Even now, she felt a maddening urge to provoke him—to do anything or say anything that might make him cough up something more interesting than platitudes that she knew only mask emotional fissures… secret agonies he would never give anyone the chance to worry about even though he carried them tirelessly like a leash around his neck.

“Trust me a little, would you?” Sorey told her, scratching his right cheek as he pondered places around his belt and beneath his cloak in search of something. “Whatever it is, I’ll make sure they don’t get in your way, not in a million years.”

“You’re pretty romantic, aren’t you?” Edna leaned toward him as Sorey flopped down on a rock, pulling a map beneath his cloak with a relieved sigh.

“Too close, Edna. I can’t read with your shadow… nnghh—”

The kiss was soft, light, lingering, with only the slightest desperation tugging at the very fringes of it as Edna pulled at Sorey’s bottom lip before letting go with a satisfied grin. “Sorry, you’re too cute and I hate being ignored. Consider that as a reward.”

“Gods, Edna,” Sorey looked away with a slight blush. “I wish I could say the same.”

A loud snapping sound followed, and Sorey was holding his head. “What the—that actually hurts!”

“That was the idea. You’re forgetting I’m a Sage. I could do more if I wanted to.”

“Bet I was lucky you didn’t—no, stop, just—I’m not gonna say another word—”

“Lay off, Edna!” a gruff, manly voice called out from the shadows as a tall, muscular shape separated itself from the whistling trees, like a cold mist solidifying until it became tangible and real enough to be seen and recognized.

“So, you finally showed up, huh?” Sorey almost snickered.

“Never gonna miss this for the world, Sei-ya, but hey, we need to get down to business! Hope you’ve figured out how to deal with five thousand troops at our heels ‘cause that’s what I’ve seen up north on my way here, and I’m not even counting the hellions…”

“Just call him Sorey, Zaveid. No need to use honorifics with a brat who doesn’t know what a real woman tastes like when he finally gets one.”

Zaveid gave Edna a flick of his thumb right on the forehead even when she stomped her foot on his boot for vengeance. “Sorey, didn’t I tell you that this little lady here is mine?”

“Believe me, I know it more than she does.”    

Edna grumbled as she leaned on a rock wall leading to a tunnel down the mountainside which they have been using as a temporary shelter. “I guess I’m surrounded by idiots who don’t deserve my attention.” 

“Sorey is a lost cause Edna, you should know that better than anyone! But in case you’re ready to change your mind, kid, I’ve managed to convince some real, nice women to come with us on my way here. It looks like some of them have run away from the Capital when they heard that the Imperial army’s heading our way.”

“Which brings me back to the problem of supplies,” Sorey mumbled, looking a little concerned. “Rose and Alisha haven’t been back, have they?

Edna frowned at that. “Medical supplies are harder to get than food. We can’t drain your healing powers if you need them yourself, when you’re our one-man army, practically speaking.”

“C’mon, I’m just backing everyone up. Any Wizard can do as much.”

“Stop with that kind of talk, kid. You’re gonna get Edna’s heart broken again and again if you keep being too nice. But hey, before I forget… there’s something I want to confirm with you…”

Sorey noticed how Zaveid’s eyes turned several shades darker as the air rippled with an unsettling aura, the kind that one can only expect from a Malekh-ai, a race known to be naturally gifted with the use and manipulation of elemental artes. Their casting magic is typically dependent on natural forces such as air, fire, wind, and water. Some extraordinary ones like Zaveid, however, are known to be able to shift shape and armatize—that is, fuse with a compatible vessel to be used in a manner no different from a tool or a weapon, enhancing, if not transforming, the vessel’s own capabilities and magic artes.

“Just tell me what it is.”

“It’s about that guy you’ve been asking about for the longest time, or at least as far as I can remember. You know… that Mikleo…”

Sorey’s ears burned. Edna saw him drop the map he had been holding out to Zaveid, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m not so sure if that guy’s dead or alive… but I did catch his name spoken more than once… and it sounded like bad news to me. I just feel that you should know.”

Edna gave Sorey a quick look, her eyes darting toward Zaveid with a piercing coldness that is rarely seen or felt among Malekh-ai unless they are threatened or induced. “Might as well tell him all about it. ‘Cause if there’s anything a man cannot bear, it’s the ghost of his own past come to haunt him. If it means all that much to him, he wouldn’t care now if the man were dead or alive, would you, Sorey?”

Zaveid shook his head. “I don’t really know what the real deal is, but for a second there, I swear you sounded like a jealous lover, Edna!”

“I feel like burying someone beneath a sand dune.”

“But seriously, it’s not like Sorey’s ever told us anything about the guy to begin with—not that he needs to. After all, past is past, no use belaboring it. Besides, we’ve all got our own skeletons in the closet that need to be buried, ain’t I right, Sorey?”

 _Skeletons in the closet, how ironic._ Zaveid could not have known that he came so close to being punched right there.

Twenty years… Sorey kept thinking about it that night as he tried to overcome years of insomnia, of sleeping sleepless nights away in between nightmares and feverish dreams. After struggling for so long to give up all hopeless thinking, here he is again, thinking the unthinkable. And all because of one word, one name, one night of shameless desire that bloomed like a forbidden flower in some distant past, filling his void with an insane yearning for someone who could never return.

Then again, for someone who has lived in the past for so long, would these residual feelings ever be enough? Should he care about a truth that is way past forgiveness if there is a chance to make amends with it?

Then again, just like miracles hoped for, there is only so much that the truth can do...

It can never bring back the dead.

Sorey may not have tasted tears for a long time, but he swore they were far more bitter tonight than all those twenty years he had spent crying to himself, like a child broken and lost and would never be found again.

 

**o----------o)O(o----------o**

  


End file.
